Cinderelsie
by theoofoof
Summary: AU. Elsie Hughes runs a struggling shop in the small village of Argyll. But when her Goddaughter, Anna convinces her to to attend the Ghillies Ball being held by the new Lord of the Manor, she will find something that she didn't even realise she was missing.
1. The Ghillies Ball

**Week 3: A retelling of a fairytale**

 ** _Scotland, 1947_**

Elsie Hughes sighed as she looked over the account books of her small grocery shop. She'd inherited 'Hughes' Household Goods' from her mother after her passing six months earlier and from the look of the figures it wasn't doing much better now than it was then. If Elsie hadn't been working her fingers to the bone trying to revive it, she wouldn't be so bothered, but it appeared she was fighting a losing battle. If this carried on, there'd barely be enough money to pay for Becky's nurse. If only the government would end the food rationing. The war had ended over a year ago yet the scheme was still in place.

The tinkling of the bell over the shop door and in bustled Elsie's goddaughter, Anna Smith. Anna's mother was a few years older than Elsie, but they had been good friends for many years. Anna, now almost sixteen, often helped out in the shop on a Saturday.

"Morning Aunt Elsie."

"Good morning dear," she said, moving around the counter to embrace the young girl.

"Everything okay?" Anna asked, eyeing the books suspiciously.

"Fine," Elsie lied, a false brightness to her voice. She closed the books. "Nothing for you to worry yourself about. How was school?"

She shrugged. "School is school. So what can I do today?"

"Can you change the adverts in the window for me. Here are the new ones to go in."

"Of course." Anna picked up the pile and shuffled through them, one particular poster catching her attention. "Oh, the ghillies ball. I can't wait. I'm so happy Ma has agreed that I can attend."

The new Lord of the Manor had decided to break with tradition slightly, inviting the villagers to the event, which was traditionally only for the servants and estate workers.

"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. You'll have to tell me all about it."

"Are you not going?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Oh, but you have to go!"

"Oh, do I? And why's that, then?"

"Because the his Lordship has invited you."

"He's hasn't invited me personally. He's invited all of the village. I doubt it's of any consequence to him whether I attend or not. I've never so much as laid eyes on the man." The previous Earl had died from injuries sustained fighting in the war, leaving no heirs, so his cousin had inherited the title. But in the twelve months since his passing, his successor had visited the estate a handful of times.

"He's been travelling a lot – he's political; involved in the partition of Germany so I've heard."

"Most people round here don't even seem to like him – an Englishman coming in here as Lord. They're only going to satisfy their own curiosities." She didn't particularly care that he was English, she just didn't have time for posh people who couldn't care less about everyday folk.

"And aren't you curious?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"Oh, but you have to come," Anna whined.

"No buts. There's far too much to do here and someone needs to watch Becky, besides I don't have anything to wear. Now, shall we get on?"

Anna knew better than to try and argue with her Godmother when she was in one of her stubborn moods, but she wasn't going to give up just yet. She would get her way and her Aunt Elsie would go to the ball.

* * *

Elsie was busy unpacking boxes in the store room when Anna arrived the following Saturday. She hadn't expected her today, assumed she'd be too busy getting ready for the Ghillies Ball.

"Aunt Els?" called Anna from the shop.

"I'm just in the back, I'll be out in a moment."

She stepped over the boxes and out into the shop to find Anna stood with a box of her own in her hands.

"Is that your dress for tonight?" asked Elsie.

"Well, it _is_ a dress. And it _is_ for tonight. But it's not mine. It's for you."

"Oh, not this again!"

She held the box out to Elsie. "You can't refuse. Ma and I stayed up half the night altering it. You can't let all our hard work be for naught."

Elsie opened the box and carefully peeled back the tissue. She lifted the dress out; a floor length, dusky aqua evening gown with a scalloped neck-line, and held it up against herself.

"It's beautiful, Anna," she gushed. "You've a real talent and I'd love to wear it. But…" she sighed, "there's still Becky."

"Oh no, I've sorted that as well. Ma doesn't really want to go to the dance, says it too soon after Da's passing, so she'll sit with Becky if you'll chaperone me. And before you say anything about how busy you are, I'll help out in the shop today too and then when you close, we can get ready – I can do your hair!"

"Well…" she sighed. "It seems you've thought of everything. My very own fairy Godmother."

Anna smiled. "Something of a role-reversal! So you'll come then?"

"Oh go on then. Why not?"

* * *

"Excuse me, may I have this dance?" Elsie looked up to find young John Bates holding his hand out to Anna. He was a few years older, maybe 18, but he seemed to like Anna. And she knew Anna liked him.

Anna looked to her, pleadingly. "Can I?"

"Go on then. But," she eyed John, "no funny business."

"I wouldn't dream of it Miss Hughes."

She watched as John led Anna onto the dance floor, a sense of sadness and longing filling her. The dance floor was full of couples. Connecting with the opposite sex seemed to come so natural to other, yet it was so alien to her. There'd only ever been one man who had shown an interest; Joe Burns, a farmer from the next village, but he'd run a mile when she'd told him about her sister and her needs. She bit her lip, as she was prone to do whenever she felt uncomfortable, and turned away.

With her head down she began walking towards the door, and didn't notice the tall man stood by one of the pillars until she collided with him.

"Oh!" exclaimed Elsie as she walked right into him. He was broad shouldered, with dark hair and warm, hazel eyes. Clean-shaven, and dressed immaculately in white tie; he had an air of confidence about him. Perhaps he was a friend of his Lordship. "I'm sorry! I… wasn't looking where I was going," she admitted. "It's been a long day. I think perhaps I am getting tired."

"Oh that's a shame."

"Excuse me?"

"It's a shame that you're tired; I was just about to ask you to dance." He smiled and extended his hand. "Shall we?"

She took it a little hesitantly and allowed him to lead her onto the floor. They moved silently around the dance floor, he smiling warmly at her, his large hand sprawled across base of her back, the warmth seeping through the material of her dress.

She couldn't help but smile as he twirled her around the dancefloor. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed dancing. It was an escape from the pressures of everyday life, or the worries and concerns; the shop, Becky. She simply enjoyed being close to the nameless man who, for some reason, had wanted to dance with her.

Soon, the song ended and he offered her his arm to escort her back to her seat.

"Thank you for the dance," she whispered.

"No, thank you. The pleasure is all mine," he replied. "Would you like a drink?"

Elsie fought down a blush. "That would be nice."

He nodded. "I won't be a moment."

Elsie looked around for a free table, and saw a young boy rushing towards her. As he got closer she recognised him as Anna's next door neighbour, William Mason. "Miss Hughes, there you are! I have been sent to collect you and Anna. You must come at once… It's Becky..."

Elsie paled and followed William out of the hall, a sense of dread filling her.

* * *

Lord Carson picked up two glasses of champagne and turned to make his way back to the beautiful woman he'd been dancing with – he really should ask her name - only to see her retreating form exiting through the door, pulling on her coat as she did so, refusing the help of his butler. Placing the glasses back down on the tray, he rushed after her.

But he was too late. He reached the main door just in time to see her climb into a car and drive away, leaving him alone and confused in the cold darkness of the night. As he turned to walk back inside, his eyes caught sight of something lying on the path. An earring. He knelt down and picked it up. It was her earring; he'd swear to it.

He wondered what had driven her away from the ball, and cursed himself for not asking her name. He pocketed the earring and returned inside to make some discrete enquiries – surely someone must know who she was?

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm sorry for ending it here – this week has been really busy and I have had some personal stuff going on that has made writing difficult, but take heart – I plan to continue this for one of the other weeks. So this isn't the last we've seen of Lord Carson and Miss Elsie Hughes.


	2. A Lost Earring

**A/N:** I think this is one you've some of you have been waiting for… A continuation of chapter 3: Cinderelsie

* * *

 **Week 6: A story about finding something that has been lost**

 ** _Scotland, 1947_**

Elsie glanced at the clock on the bedside table before continuing the frantic search of her dresser. It was 12.40, they'd be here shortly. Where in the world was that earring? She forcefully pulled out the bottom drawer and tipped the contents onto her bed, spreading them out over the cover, eyes flicking from object to object as she searched.

It was no use. It wasn't there. She'd turned her flat and shop upside down over the past day to try and find it, but had had no luck. It was well and truly lost. As she had been since last Saturday. With a heavy sigh she collapsed onto the bed, not caring about her belongings strewn all over it. She'd been lay there less than a minute when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Aunt Elsie?" Anna called softly through the wood.

"Come in," she replied wearily, sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed.

The door creaked open and Anna entered. "They're here," she said solemnly, looking around the room. She took in the dishevelled state of things. This wasn't like her Aunt; she kept the house neat and tidy, she always had; it had been engrained in her by her mother.

"I was looking for something," Elsie offered in explanation. "I seem to have lost one of my mother's silver earrings. I wanted to wear them today, they were Becky's favourites." Her voice caught in her throat and Anna moved quickly to her side, sitting next to her and putting her arm around her.

"Oh Aunt Els…" she whispered. "Do you remember when you last had them?"

"I wore them to the ghillies ball, the night that-" Her hand flew to her mouth as a sob escaped her. She didn't want to think about that night. It upset her and filled her with guilt. There she'd been, having a jolly good time, drinking ad dancing, while her sister had been at home, dying.

 _Elsie had been almost eleven when Becky had been born and it had been obvious from an early age that she was different to other children; it had taken her longer to walk and talk and had episodes or fits regularly. Doctors advised that she probably wouldn't live past her teenage years – that one day a fit would overtake her – and that perhaps it would be best for her to live in an institution, but their mother wouldn't hear of it. Becky was her daughter and she would care for her. She hadn't attended school, but worked hard in the shop, sorting the deliveries and fetching and carrying and she adored her older sister, revelling in the time they'd spent together._

 _Becky proved the doctors wrong and lived well into her thirties, almost double the life expectancy they had foreseen and, even though Elsie had known they were living on borrowed time, she still hadn't been prepared for it happening. Becky had had a fit while Elsie had been at the ball, and unlike the ones in the past, this one had been prolonged. She was still fitting when Elsie had arrived home. Elsie rushed to her sister's side and cradled her in her arms, whispering words of comfort, sending silent prayers for it to stop, for her sister to survive. But to no avail. Rebecca Margaret Hughes passed away shortly after midnight, leaving her sister heartbroken and alone._

Elsie wiped the tears from her eyes, and stood from the bed. "I shan't wear any earrings," she declared, "But I will wear this." She picked up a butterfly brooch that her mother had bought for Becky for her eighteenth birthday; an occasion none of them had thought they would celebrate. Becky had loved to watch the butterflies and to chase them through the fields and meadows.

"Perfect," Anna whispered, gently taking the brooch from Elsie and pinning it to her black dress for her.

The two shared a smile and Elsie gave Anna's hand a thankful squeeze before steeling herself to face the trials of the day. "Come on. I think we've kept them waiting long enough."

* * *

Lord Carson drove towards the village, periodically checking on the earring that sat in his breast pocket. He still wasn't sure about his course of action but one thing he was sure of - he had to see her again. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since the ghillies ball; she'd mesmerised him.

 _He hadn't slept much, his mind full of her and the reasons for her mysterious disappearance. After breakfast the next day, he'd called every member of his staff into the library one by one, to find out if they knew anything about the woman that he'd danced with and why she may have left. Most of them had known who she was, but not why she left and he was just instructing his chauffeur to bring the car around so he could go to village and ask her himself when his butler, Mr Stubbs, had entered._

 _"If I may, milord, that might not be the best course of action."_

 _Lord Carson turned to face his butler; the man had been in post when he had arrived and he couldn't, in all honesty, say that he liked him. "And why not?"_

 _The butler beckoned to the open door and a young man entered. Lord Carson vaguely recognised him as one of his estate workers but was ashamed to say he couldn't name him._

 _"This is John Bates, milord. He works as an apprentice to Mr McEwan, the groom. He has some information that may interest you… about Miss Hughes."_

 _"You know Miss Hughes?" Lord Carson asked._

 _"Not well, milord. I know her goddaughter, Anna Smith." Lord Carson didn't miss the slight blush that tainted the young man's cheeks as he spoke, clearly he was sweet on this Anna. "The night of the ghillies ball, Anna's mother was sitting with Miss Hughes' sister, Becky. She's not…" John trailed off as he tried to find the right word._

 _"She's an imbecile," sneered the butler._

 _"Not a term I care for, Stubbs. Please do not use it in my presence again." He turned back to John. "I assume you mean she has some mental disabilities?"_

 _"Yes milord, or at least she did. She passed last night. That's why Miss Hughes left the ball in such a hurry. Anna too."_

 _"I see. Well, thank you John. Your information has proved most helpful." He offered John his hand. "Do you think you'd be able to find out when the funeral is to be?"_

 _John took Lord Carson's hand and shook it. "I will do my best, milord."_

 _John returned two days later to inform him that the funeral would take place at the village church on Friday, followed by burial in the churchyard. Lord Carson thanked him and told him he must take that afternoon off and attend should he wish to do so._

He pulled in across the road from the church, seeing the funeral party dispersing through the church yard. He hadn't wanted to appear insensitive so had chosen not to invade the funeral service itself, but rather stroll past as the burial was due to finish and hope to see her then. He got out of the car and waited by the lychgate. When she passed through with Anna and her mother, he called out.

"Excuse me, Miss Hughes?"

She turned at the sound of her name, surprised to see the man she had been dancing with at the ghillies ball.

"G-good afternoon," she replied as Anna and her mother slipped away.

"I was sorry to hear about your sister. Please accept my condolences. I don't mean to trouble you on such a sad occasion but I have something that I believe belongs to you." He pulled the earring from his pocket and held it out to her.

An enormous sense of relief washed over her as her eyes fell on the piece of silver jewellery and tears welled up in her eyes.

Taking her reaction as a sign of distress, Lord Carson began to apologise again. "I'm sorry Miss Hughes, I just thought… Perhaps I should have waited."

He placed her hand on his arm, silencing him. "No. It's perfectly alright. More than in fact. These were my mother's and Becky's… my sister's favourites. I had wanted to wear them today but when I went to find them I realised I'd lost one." She removed her hand from his arm, and took the earring from him and tucked it safely inside her purse. "Thank you for returning it to me."

He cleared his throat, sure he could still feel the warmth of her hand on his arm. "You're welcome."

"I'm sorry I rushed off that night. I hope you didn't think me rude."

"Not at all." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Alright," he continued, "I admit to being a bit confused, but I was soon set right."

She smiled, possibly for the first time since Becky's death. "I'm glad. I-"

She was cut off by the appearance of Anna at her side, a young John Bates in tow. "I'm sorry Aunt Elsie, but mum says we should be getting back."

Elsie looked at her watch. "And she's probably right." She turned back to the gentleman she'd danced with. "It was nice to see you again."

"Likewise. Perhaps we'll see more of each other Miss Hughes?" he asked with a smile.

Elsie nodded, butterflies taking up residence in her stomach at the thought. "Perhaps."

Lord Carson turned to John. "Now, John, can I offer you a lift back up to the house."

"That's very generous milord, but I have been invited back to the house, if that's alright with you?"

"Of course. Good afternoon Ladies." He tipped his hat before returning to his car.

As soon as his back was turned, Elsie whipped round to face John; she didn't know how she'd maintained a neutral expression until he'd gone. "Milord?" she asked. "Please tell me that's not…"

"Yes," John answered simply. "That's Lord Carson."

Elsie's eyes followed the car as it drove away. "Lord Carson?" she whispered astonished. " _Lord_ Carson?!"

* * *

 **A/N:** Don't worry, I'm sure their story will continue in another instalment later on in the series.


	3. An Unexpected Journey

**A/N:** The prompt for this chapter was _'a story that takes place entirely inside a vehicle'_.

* * *

"It's very kind of you to offer me a lift," Elsie said, placing her basket on her knee as the car pulled away. "Although I'm not sure it's quite proper for me to be riding in the back with you milord."

"Nonsense," replied Lord Carson, "It would have been improper to leave you standing at the bus stop in this weather." The rain was torrential and it had not let up for some hours.

"Still, I'd have been more than grateful to sit up front just the same." She'd recognised the car immediately, when it had pulled up next to her at the bus stop – after all it had driven past her shop window several times in the last month and no-one else in the village would be able to afford a car like that. But she'd been surprised when the back door had opened and Lord Carson himself had leaned out offering her a lift back to the village. She had begun to protest, but he wouldn't take no for an answer – at one point threatening to get out and stand with her if she did not humour she had given in

"And deprive us both of the company? Unless you prefer he company of old Mr Foster?"

"I hardly know enough about either of you to give an informed answer to that question," she replied with a slight smirk.

"Then this will give us a chance to remedy that, partly at least. How have you been Miss Hughes? I've wanted to call on you but I wasn't sure how long to leave it and then I had to go to London for a couple of weeks…" He trailed off, realising he was coming close to babbling.

Elsie found his nervousness quite endearing and allowed herself a small smile. "I have been well milord thank you. Losing Becky was a great loss, not something I am likely to recover from quickly, but I take comfort in the fact that she is no longer suffering and has been reunited with our mother."

"It's not long since you lost your mother I believe?" At her somewhat confused look he offered an explanation. "I overheard some of the women in the village commenting on how sad it was that the death of your sister had come so closely after that of your mother. I did not mean to pry Miss Hughes. Forgive me – I shouldn't have said anything."

"There is nothing to forgive. Although I would have thought as Lord such as yourself would have been above such things as eavesdropping."

"I was merely stood in a queue; my eavesdropping was not intentional, I assure you."

"You were never shopping in the village? Don't you have maids or footmen to do that for you?" Charles eyes widened and Elsie blushed as she realised how impertinent she sounded. "I apologise milord. How you spend your time is your own concern as is your staffing."

"It's quite alright Miss Hughes," he assured with a smile. "You're right, I do have staff to run errands for me but I was walking back from the station when I suddenly had a craving for something sweet, so I popped into Mrs Patmore's tea room."

"Oh well that explains it. Beryl Patmore wouldn't know how to whisper if her life depended on it."

"Do I detect a hint of bitterness?"

Elsie shakes her head. "There's no harm in the woman really," she said. And there isn't, Elsie is just a little put out that her personal life was being discussed in public. "She does love a gossip and certainly knows how to make herself heard."

"She makes a good apple tart," commented Charles.

"That she does," agreed Elsie. "But I prefer her chocolate cake."

Charles filed that piece of information away, certain it would come in useful at some point in the future. He was already making vague plans to call into Miss Hughes' shop at the next available opportunity – perhaps he could take her a slice of chocolate cake. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Miss Elsie Hughes. She had gotten under his skin.

"You've been spending a lot of time in London milord," she observed, in an attempt to shift the focus of conversation from herself.

"I have, but now that the division of Germany is complete and everyone knows what is expected of them, I'm hoping that my visits to the capital will be less frequent. I feel as though I've not been much of a Lord since inheriting the title. And I can only imagine what the villagers must think; an uninterested Englishman who's escaped back to his own land as often as possible probably, or worse."

"I have heard the term Sassenach bandied about in certain quarters," Elsie informed him.

"What does that mean exactly?" Charles asked.

"It's an old Gaelic term for Englishman, but over the years it's taken on quite a derogatory slant'" she admitted.

"I see. And how might one go about being less of a _Sassenach_?" Charles asked, attempting a Scots accent on the last word.

"Never trying that accent again would be a start," laughed Elsie.

"It was rather bad, wasn't it?" he agreed, laughing with her.

"One of the worst I've heard," she teased.

Once their laughter died down, Charles looked at her seriously. "I know I've not made the best start to this new life, but now my responsibilities in London have lessened I certainly mean to try. Only, I'm not sure where to begin. I don't suppose you'd take sympathy on an old Sassenach and give me some guidance?"

Thankful he'd not attempted the accent again, Elsie smiled at him. She got the impression that Lord Carson wasn't one to admit his failings or vulnerabilities to just anyone and she found herself feeling rather honoured that he chosen her to confide in.

"I'm not sure what help I'll be but I do like a challenge," she replied with a smirk,

"Perhaps you could teach me the ways of the sharp tongued Scot too," he teased back.

"Perhaps, but it will have to wait until another day I'm afraid." She nodded out of the car window. They'd arrived back in the village and in moments would be pulling up outside her shop. "I need to relieve Anna – she's been on her own on the shop all morning."

"Of course, Miss Hughes. You must attend to your business. Would you permit me to call on you in a few days?" he asked, as the car came to a halt outside 'Hughes' Household Goods'. We could talk more about my integration into the village then?"

She nodded. "That would be fine, milord. Thursday afternoons are usually quietest, if you're not busy?"

"Then I shall see you on Thursday," he agreed, as Mr Foster opened Elsie's door. "Good day Miss Hughes."

"Good day milord, and thank you again for the lift."

"It was my pleasure."

Sharing one last smile, they parted; each filled with the anticipation of their next meeting. Thursday afternoon could not come quickly enough for either of them.


	4. The Englishman's Game in Scotland?

**A/N:** The prompt for this chapter was _'a story about a contest or competition.'_

* * *

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Charles grumbled. "Cricket isn't really my game."

"But it's the English game, isn't it?" asked Elsie, who was putting the finishing touches to the tea tent. "I thought all English gentlemen had to play, especially those from Yorkshire."

"It's not a requirement. Besides, _having_ to play and actually being any _good_ are two different things."

Elsie smiled. "Well, look at it this way, if you're really that bad and the village team win, it will do them good to see you're just as human as the rest of us." Charles sighed, causing Elsie to enquire, "Why on earth did you agree to it if you were so against the idea?"

"It was that goddaughter of yours. She looked so pleased by the idea, I couldn't bear to disappoint her." Charles caught sight of his butler indicating a need to speak to him, so excused himself momentarily.

"I don't think it was the idea of the cricket match that had her smiling that day," mumbled Elsie as she watched him walk away, thinking back to that Thursday afternoon not three weeks ago...

* * *

 _After their impromptu car journey together, Charles called into the shop the following Thursday afternoon, armed with a slice of Mrs Patmore's chocolate cake for Elsie and a slice of apple tart for himself. Elsie led him into her store room and poured them both a cup of tea, while he made a makeshift table and chairs out of some crates. She blushed as she apologised for not having better facilities._

 _"Nonsense, this is fine," he assured her. "I made do with worse during the war."_

 _She looked around sceptically, as she placed his tea on the crate in front of him, and took her 'seat' opposite. "But you're a Lord."_

 _"Not by choice. I was never supposed to inherit. I was quite happy living the life of a middle class civil servant."_

 _"Did you not have the option to refuse?" Elsie once again cursed herself for opening her mouth before thinking. What business was it of hers anyway?_

 _Charles didn't seem perturbed by her question; he felt that she was someone he could be open and honest with. One of very few. "I suppose I could have done, but if I had the estate would have been left to my Grandfather's cousin. A rather unpleasant man who would've had no interest in keeping the estate running. It would have crumbled, the village too and my grandfather turning in his grave. My grandfather was a kind man, whom I greatly respected. I felt… I feel I have to continue on with his legacy."_

 _"Which is why you asked for my help?" Elsie surmised, lifting a forkful of chocolate cake to her lips. "Mmm. This is good," she complimented. "Thank you."_

 _"Well, you mentioned that you were a fan of that particular cake and when I saw it in the shop window today, I couldn't resist."_

 _Elsie couldn't quite believe that he'd remembered such an insignificant detail about her, but then again, she remembered that he'd expressed a fondness for Mrs Patmore's apple tart._

 _So, have you had any ideas on how to proceed with my… predicament?"_

 _"As a matter of fact I have," she smiled. "What about a contest of some sort? That always garners a lot of interest from the villagers."_

 _"You're not expecting me to throw a caber or anything like that, are you?"_

 _"One does not throw a caber, mi'lord. One tosses it," she informed him with mock seriousness._

 _Charles smiled. He'd found himself doing that a lot lately, mostly when he was with Elsie and occasionally when he was not, but in those moments he was invariably thinking of her. "Oh, I do apologise. But please, no caber tossing. I don't think my back would survive it."_

 _"No. I was thinking about something a little more sedate. Like cricket."_

 _It was Charles' turn to look sceptical then. "The Englishman's game? Here?"_

 _She nodded. "Surprisingly, yes. Your uncle and your cousin used to host an annual match – the House against the village – and the ladies would set up stalls, selling cakes and jams, like a bit of a bazaar I suppose. It was quite an event."_

 _"I didn't know that. But then, after my grandfather's passing, we weren't really welcomed with open arms."_

 _Elsie nodded. "I heard someone in the village say your mother was cast out for marrying your father."_

 _The fact that the villagers were gossiping about him didn't come as much of a surprise but it still irritated him. He wondered if that was how Elsie felt when he'd mentioned he'd heard Mrs Patmore discussing the passing of her mother and sister._

 _"Not by my grandfather, but by my uncle yes. He thought she'd married 'below her station' and would allow my father on the estate when he inherited it. And my mother refused to visit without the man she loved."_

 _"Were they happy?" Elsie enquired. "Your parents?" It was like something out of a romance novel and she couldn't help but be intrigued._

 _"Very, despite everything. They were very loving parents and they taught me that while there are certain rules to life, there are more important things…," he whispered, the tips of his fingers ghosting over hers. The tension between them heightened as he moved to take her hand, but the moment was broken by the ringing of the bell above the shop door._

 _"Aunt Elsie?!" Anna's voice pierced the charged silence._

 _"In the back!" Elsie called back as she stood abruptly, knocking the makeshift table and causing the tea to overflow from their cups. "Oh damn!" she cursed, reaching for a towel to clean up._

 _"Oh Aunt Elsie, the most wonderful thing has happened!" Anna rushed in, talking a mile a minute., only stopping when she registered Charles' presence. "Oh, I do beg your pardon mi'lord."_

 _Charles waved away her concerns. "It's quite alright, Miss… Smith isn't it?"_

 _"Yes mi'lord."_

 _"Young John Bates speaks quite highly of you, I believe."_

 _Anna's cheeks flushed at the mention of the groom's assistant and Elsie suspected he was the cause of her goddaughter's exuberance._

 _"Lord Carson asked for my advice on how to improve the relationship between the house and the village. I suggested he reinstate the annual cricket match."_

 _Anna turned to Charles. "Really? Oh that would be wonderful. It was always such an occasion."_

 _"Well," Charles replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing is definite yet."_

 _"Oh please do it." She clasped her hands together in front of her, almost pleading with him. "Please mi'lord."_

 _"Oh, well… I, I suppose it's worth a try."_

 _Oh, thank you mi'lord. Thank you ever so much."_

* * *

He'd left not long after that, allowing Anna the opportunity to say what she'd been dying to since she arrived. It was as Elsie suspected; John had asked her to take a walk with her after church on Sunday. A tentative romance was blossoming between them and Anna was glowing with happiness. In fact, she'd been so happy that she'd not been able to resist teasing Elsie about her and Charles being sequestered in the store room together.

Elsie had ignored her goddaughter, instead shifting the conversation back to matters at hand, like the stack of crates that needed emptying and the shelves that needed filling.

There was no denying that she was drawn to Lord Carson. He was an attractive man, but he was also charming and funny, with a good heart. Every time she saw him her stomach would flip and when she was with him she felt her worries lessen; like as long as he was there she'd have nothing to worry about.

But he was a Lord, he wouldn't be interested in someone like her; a spinster trying to keep a struggling shop afloat. Even if he'd remained a middle class civil servant she wouldn't have expected him to look twice at her.

"Miss Hughes, did you arrange these cups?" Mrs Patmore's voice rang through the tent, interrupting her musings.

"Why?" she asked. "Is there a problem?"

"No. Not if you like your tea infused with dust and flies," replied Mrs Patmore haughtily as she made her way along the table, turning every cup upside down on its saucer.

* * *

The match was over; the village team resplendent in victory. The house team had put up a good fight and Charles' performance wasn't half bad, as far as Elsie could tell, but it just hadn't been their day. Elsie watched Charles make his rounds, consoling and encouraging his staff and congratulating the village team. He shook each of their hands and took time to speak to each one of them personally.

Her eyes roamed his body appreciatively and she felt herself flush as she realised just how well his cricket whites fit him. She averted her gaze; it would not do to be caught staring so openly, and busied herself packing up the tea tent.

Her task complete, Elsie found herself alone in the tent, bar the butler and cook from the house. Acknowledging them with a small smile, she lifted the tent flap and stepped out into the dusky evening.

Raising her hand to her face to shade her eyes from the low sun, she spotted Lord Carson, sat on a blanket under a majestic oak tree. His legs stretched out in front of him, head resting against the large trunk, eyes closed. He looked content. Relaxed. She was loathed to disturb him, but didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, so she approached slowly.

He opened his eyes as her shadow fell over him. "Hello. I wondered if you'd left."

"No, I've been packing up the tea tent."

"You didn't need to do that," Charles said. "Stubbs and Mrs Bute could have managed."

She shrugged. "Probably, but as this whole affair was my idea, I thought it was the least I could do."

He regarded her for a moment, pondering his next words. He shifted to the side of the blanket and patted the resultant empty space. "Join me?"

Elsie chewed on her bottom lip, debating her response for a moment. She could feel the gaze of Mr Stubbs bearing into her back. She'd only met the man twice, but he'd made it clear he didn't like her. What would he think if she sat down with his master as if she were his equal?

A light breeze blew across the lawn and carried Elsie's mother's voice _. "Life's too short to care what other people think, leannan."_

Smiling, Elsie lowered herself onto the blanket, her fingers dancing over the back of his hand as she did so.


End file.
